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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851972">Secrets Shared Three Shots Deep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybeans/pseuds/happybeans'>happybeans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Foggy finds out during law school au [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Columbia - Freeform, Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Law School, stick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:47:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybeans/pseuds/happybeans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding out about Matt’s powers, a law school-era Foggy’s been getting to know his best friend all over again. Turns out there’s a lot more to learn.</p>
<p>In which Foggy finds out Stick abandoned Matt as a kid. He is appropriately disturbed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock &amp; Franklin "Foggy" Nelson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Foggy finds out during law school au [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Secrets Shared Three Shots Deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, howdy! I'm excited about this one, folks. Get ready for some delicious drama.<br/>I don't really have any serious warnings. I went for the canon-but-terrible facts of Matt's life and honed in on Matt's pure denial of Stick being the Worst.<br/>I'm planning a possible part-three to this and have a lot of ideas for where I could take this series, but you all know me: don't expect anything quick. I have a lot I'm working on and am all over the place, so it'll come...eventually...haha. You know, probably.<br/>I hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They passed intoxicated three shots ago, if you ask Foggy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, really,” Matt says, throwing a hand in a weak downward arc. He stumbles to the side just barely, one foot crossing in front of the other before straightening out again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt insists again, “I’m good. I got my dad’s super high tolerance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, shit. Foggy can’t fight with that, so he says, “Whatever you say, man,” while squeezing Matt’s bicep. “Just don’t run me into a pole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt giggles at that, pointedly sweeping his cane even wider. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ve got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you do,” Foggy assures him. A little quieter, he says, “Your super-ears probably see more than I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In some ways,” Matt agrees. He shoots Foggy a wicked grin as he says, “Alcohol tends to mess with it, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy groans. Then, he closes his eyes, letting Matt guide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After Matt told him about his powers a couple weeks back, Foggy’s been getting to know how his crazy superpowers work. He’s pretty sure what he knows versus what he doesn’t know is comparable to an iceberg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, that statement’s probably true for all things Matt and Matt-related.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, wait,” he says. “Tell me: how did you become a ninja again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It gains another laugh from Matt, who starts, “I told you: there was a truck, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no!” Foggy’s eyes open instinctively before he remembers to close them again. “I got that part. I mean the karate part. You said you were trained by some guy? Twig?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick?” Matt asks on a laugh. “Don’t let him hear you call him that; his hearing’s half as good as mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Throwing out a wide gesture that Matt will probably be able to make out, Foggy says, “Yeah, him. How’d that go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d it go? I mean—pretty well, I think.” His voice is incredulous. Then, in a more normal voice, he says, “We’ve got stairs coming up. Watch your step. There’s eight. No, seven.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy tentatively approaches the steps, focusing as he counts his way up. Once they’ve gotten to the top, he says, “Well, duh. I mean more like ‘how was it?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand jostles as Matt shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It went fine,” he says, passing it off like becoming a literal badass is just another Tuesday. “You know, it wasn’t just about this supposed ‘ninja training.’ More than anything, he helped me control my senses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy can’t resist the urge to open his eyes for a second, and he catches Matt’s confused look as he says:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm… I’ve never talked about it before. Well, it was a lot of practice: count how many people are in a room, or how many ingredients are in an ice cream.” He smirks. “Twelve in vanilla, usually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy smirks with him, laughing out loud then closing his eyes again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slow down; we’re getting to the door of the dorm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha,” Foggy says with a nod. “Nodding, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt told him it takes more focus to notice the more subtle movements, so Foggy still tries to narrate where he can. It’s a work in progress, trying to find the middle ground between keeping Matt informed and being annoying, but it’s been working for them so far.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that sounds kinda fun,” Foggy says, getting them back on topic. “You trained by eating ice cream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once or twice, yes,” Matt replies, ushering Foggy through the door and towards the stairs. “Sometimes we’d play this game where he’d put something in my food for me to find. The stairs are right here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy still manages to trip on the first one, saved from instantly going down when Matt spins, grabbing Foggy’s other bicep with his cane-hand to stabilize him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” Matt says, and since Foggy’s eyes opened when he started going down, he sees Matt’s smug smirk. “Eyes closed. That was step one of nine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy rolls his eyes, though he dutifully closes them after. “What?” He lowers his voice. “Could you smell my eyes being open?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs, and he announces when they’ve made it up the first flight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halfway through the second, Foggy says, “So you can tell if the cook didn’t clean the grill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely. There’s that, there’s random flavors getting in… If I really concentrate, I can make out what other restaurants or stores are nearby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way. I’m gonna need proof for that. Last step, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. See? You’re doing great. And you can go ahead and test it someday. I’m quite good. Not to brag; it’s just that Stick made sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sounds proud of himself—something that doesn’t come about very often. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Foggy’s still going to rib him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Joke’s on you when I slip something flavorless in there. Not so high-and-mighty now, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Matt says, “Good luck. You think Stick didn’t think of that? Even flavorless things have a taste when you’re looking for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about when you’re not looking for it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt stops them and brushes off Foggy’s hand to dig for his key. “I think you’re misunderstanding the extent of my training. I’m always looking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s…really badass,” Foggy says. Then he frowns. “Don’t you get tired, though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt only hums, and Foggy thinks that’s admission enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They enter their dorm-room, and Foggy fumbles for the lock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want to listen to next week’s chapter of Civil Procedure with me?” Matt asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy snorts, hoping Matt will drop it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course not, the nerd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll even listen at normal speed for you,” he says, as though that’s particularly convincing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, fine,” Foggy concedes, mostly because Matt’s been trying to get him to study all day. He flops down onto his bed. “Just give me a minute. I’m still drunk as hell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to do, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely not study, you nerd.” Matt’s the only guy Foggy knows who’s itching to study law on a Friday night. “Uhhh, I don’t know. Checkers? I call being dinosaur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re always dinosaur,” Matt complains. “I’m grinning, by the way. Still, don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad, so sad. You gotta be quicker to the trigger, Murdock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The “dinosaur” thing references the plastic dinos they glued to the top of the black pieces, so Matt could tell them apart. It’s made the game way more entertaining, in Foggy’s opinion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I open my eyes for this part?” Foggy asks, arms out as he walks towards their game shelf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely not,” Matt says, immediately. Then, a little less sure: “Unless you really want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re right: I’m not giving up that easily… This just might take a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up finding it after shaking a couple of the boxes, ignoring Matt’s laughter from across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what was the karate about, then?” Foggy asks as they situate themselves on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt hums. “That one’s complicated. What matters is that it helped me further the use of my senses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy cracks open one eye to look Matt over for a moment. Through the dark, he sees Matt, who’s sitting criss-cross-applesauce and leaning back on his hands, biting the inside of his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all,” Foggy points out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt huffs a laugh. Then he doesn’t elaborate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s a thought,” Foggy says as he opens up the box and starts arranging the pieces, “How about we make this more interesting? If I win, you gotta tell me what’s so secret about this Stick thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, Matt sighs. “No, you—you shouldn’t have to win a game to hear basic facts about my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that, ladies and gents, is what those in the industry call “progress.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy waits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt continues after a moment, “I’m just not so sure you truly want to know this… Stick always said something about some kind of…secret war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy blatantly opens his eyes for that. “I’m sorry. What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt smiles, awkwardly. It’s more grimace than anything else, actually. “I know, it sounds… I never really understood it, either. But he never lied to me, and that’s what he said: that his intent was to make me a soldier in his war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s… I’m sorry, but that’s really fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s…not great, I’ll admit. I’m pretty sure it’ll end before I end up getting called in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Pretty sure,’” Foggy repeats then goes on, “And ‘called in,’ like this is the draft and not some sketchy underworld shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt doesn’t respond to that, except to say, “Your turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy closes his eyes then realizes he doesn’t remember what half the board looks like. He gives Matt an opening to take a couple of his pieces as a sort of damage control. It’s probably not his best plan: when it comes to games—when it comes to anything—Matt is ruthless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now Foggy might be getting a clue about why he’s so cut-throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you ever worry that he’s going to ‘call you in?’” Foggy asks, making appropriate finger-quotes then narrating it after. “Like what if he walks in tomorrow and sends you to the trenches?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure it won’t happen,” Matt says, though he doesn’t really sound that sure of it. “But if it does, I’ll face it when it gets here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re okay with that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t really matter how I feel about it. I owe him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, Foggy doesn’t feel the victory of taking some of Matt’s checkers. He says, “I really don’t think you owe him. You were—what? Nine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nine, ten. Doesn’t matter. Everything that I can do… It’s because of him. I need you to understand, Foggy, if he never taught me, I would probably still be in a constant state of shock and overwhelm because of my senses. My age at the time doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs. And Foggy laughs with him because he doesn’t really know what else to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your turn, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy feels up the board, trying to figure out what Matt moved. “Here’s the thing that I’m stuck on,” he says: “this Stick-guy… He was training you to be a child soldier. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>child soldier.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That’s really fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t so bad,” Matt immediately denies. “Really. It was like any other martial arts training, just a bit more intense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy makes his move. “Intense how?” He opens his eyes to watch Matt’s reaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you know…” The smile slips as Matt considers. “Like… Well, now you’re just going to take the worst from what I say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me more credit than that. You know I can be objective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry I said that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy can’t help the sad look that appears on his face. That’s another topic for another day. “It’s fine,” he says. “I just want to understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s head turns down, and he’s quiet for a couple of seconds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a risk, Foggy says, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s up to you. I just want to understand you better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a better friend than I’ll ever deserve,” Matt says, and it about breaks Foggy’s heart since he feels like he’s doing the literal bare minimum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt straightens up and takes his turn as he says, “I only knew Stick for a little over a year before he left. Everything I know he taught me in that time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said he was intense?” Foggy prompts. He’s given up entirely on keeping his eyes closed and distractedly takes his turn while staying focused on Matt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I definitely thought so, at the time. He liked having things done correctly. He wouldn’t take any slack from me. It made me stronger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were nine,” Foggy reminds him. “Every nine year-old will be a little lazy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s true,” Matt says, though he sounds unsure of it. “It was one-on-one training. There were no breaks unless I really couldn’t go on. We trained just about every day, from the time I got home from school until dinner-time. Sometimes we’d continue after, if there was something important he needed to show me. Sometimes we’d go through dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t let you eat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s lips thin. “Sometimes he’d feed me after. Remember the food training?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of which, what did he put in your food that was tasteless?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s mouth parts in what looks like surprise. Quickly, he schools it to be neutral, but Foggy doesn’t miss it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unimportant,” Matt says. “I bet you’d like to hear about—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I was joking about it earlier, but now that I’m thinking about it… Name one tasteless thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt sputters. “Water,” he says quickly, but how do you hide water in food?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy continues, “Because all I can think of is arsenic, to be honest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Face going red, Matt says, “We’re getting off-track here. Do you want to hear about this or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This whole thing is starting to feel heavily suspect, but Foggy says, “I am holding out my hand in a ‘go for it’ gesture. Go for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a couple moments to regroup, Matt says, “I don’t really know what else to say. He taught me a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was your favorite thing you learned?” Foggy asks, because Matt still looks tightly-strung, and it’s not a good look on his best friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relaxing, Matt says, “I really enjoyed learning the different kicks. Especially aerial- and spin-kicks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to show me sometime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes lighting up, Matt says, “I could teach you, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although he’s sorry to extinguish that spark, Foggy says, “I think I’m better off on the ground, but thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a chuckle, Matt says, “Fair enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tides are starting to turn against Foggy in their game. He draws out his following moves, if only to draw out the conversation a little more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can continue,” he tells Matt. “I’ll try not to interrupt this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs. “Thanks,” he says, though it seems more joke than genuine. “Really, I don’t know what more to say. He pushed me, true, but that was so I could learn to be better than who I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy’s speechless for a second. “What do you mean ‘better than who you are?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was a focus of his training,” Matt explains. “Something that he said a lot has really stuck with me: ‘the mind controls the body.’ It shows that mindset is the greater part of the battle. If I truly want to do something, I can. So, I’ve taken that idea, and I’ve put it towards other parts of my life, too, like—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt tilts his head, thinks for a moment, then continues, “Like with schoolwork. I decide to be better and my body follows. I don’t have to be Matt Murdock anymore. I can be somebody better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt… Are you even hearing yourself? You are Matt Murdock. All of your accomplishments are yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not getting it. That was one of the tenants of his training: surpassing the self. I don’t—I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be myself. I can’t afford to be. I have to be better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right: I don’t get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting out a breath through his nose, Matt says after a moment, “It’s about the inner-self. If I can’t control myself—my actions, my emotions—then how am I supposed to control anything else? It might be a bit…unordinary…but in my head, Matt Murdock is somebody else: he’s emotional and impulsive and lazy. And I have to be better than him. That’s why… Nevermind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a second of hesitation, Matt says, “That’s why he left, in the end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, he left you?” Foggy’s eyebrows draw together. “I thought you just finished your training, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Matt says, and he smiles, but it looks sad. “I couldn’t—I was too soft. I saw him like a father. I crossed a line, and he left because of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god… Matt, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how that must have made you feel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Orphaned, and the one adult who showed interest in him left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt shakes his head. “I’ve grown because of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would hate him,” Foggy says honestly, and to his surprise, Matt’s eyes widen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth moves for a moment before he says, “Hate him? I’m the reason he left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it’s Foggy’s turn to be speechless. “Matt… He abandoned you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, because I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not on you. He was the adult, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Matt’s turn, but Matt doesn’t move. He smiles, but it’s strained. “Now I’m the one who doesn’t get it,” he jokes, but Foggy takes him seriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>nine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And newly-orphaned, at that. Of course you’re going to look up to him, and maybe even see him as a father-figure. He should have handled it responsibly, not fucking abandon you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t abandon me; I drove him away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were</span>
  <em>
    <span> nine!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘And?’ And he left you, and somehow, you think it’s your fault!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explain it to me, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was too emotional. Soldiers can’t afford to be emotional.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, you—” Foggy’s voice raises, high and disbelieving as he says— "You aren’t a soldier, Matt! You were nine years-old!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop bringing up my age. It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re literally studying to be a lawyer! How do you not get how serious this is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt pushes back like he’s been hit. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were just a little kid,” Foggy continues, standing when Matt does. “He was the adult, Matt. He should have done better by you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt walks to the door and grabs his shoes, pulling them on quickly. “You’re wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m right. And I think you know it. Where are we going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going for a walk.” He picks up his cane from where it’s leaning against the wall beside the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foggy eyes his own shoes, resting beside his bed. “Let me come with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need some air.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me come with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt opens the door. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Foggy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt, you don’t have to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans in and snags his scarf from where it’s draped over his bed’s footboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you in a little bit,” he repeats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he walks out the door.</span>
</p>
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